Metaphors
by Cordria
Summary: Phantom is on the roof of City Hall studying for a test and doesn't notice Val sneak up until she is inches from him. Will she finally be able to destroy him?


_Metaphor: a figure of speech where two seemingly unlike objects are compared, usually in a memorable way. Take a certain ghost and a certain ghost hunter - two very unlike objects... or so they seem._

_*edited 12/09*  
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_**Metaphors**_  
A Danny Phantom Fanfiction by Cordria_

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I slammed my board to a stop, hovering just above the Amity Park Public Library. I could finally see him. That annoying ghost was perched on top of the clock tower of City Hall, his legs dangling into the air, staring at some kind of paper in his hands. For several minutes I waited, watching as he read some of it, gazed up at the stars and seemed to talk to himself for a moment, then return to reading the paper.

As I slowly floated closer, he did this routine over and over. _What in the world is he up to?_ I wondered. I glanced at the clock on the tower; I had plenty of time before I needed to be home. _I need to check this out_.

Decision made, I drifted up and over his shoulder, trying to see what it was he was reading. It had to be some kind of battle plan. I wasn't close enough to see what it was when the ghost yelled, "No, no, no you idiot!"

I froze. _Who's he calling an idiot?_ I was about to speak when the ghost continued. "You got them mixed up again, idiot." He sighed and turned the paper over, restarting his routine of reading and then staring off into space. I could feel my heart slowing down to a more normal pace as I finally figured out that crazy ghost was talking to himself, not to me.

_Wait. I get it. He's memorizing something._ I wrinkled my forehead. _What would a ghost need to memorize?_ I leaned forwards, making my hoverboard drift a bit closer to where the ghost was sitting. I'll admit it, I was curious. After all, he might have been memorizing some secret ghost code or invasion instructions or something.

I was a lot closer to him than normal before I could focus on what he was reading. Normally the ghost would realize I was there long before I got close enough to actually touch him. Today he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that I could have reached out and ruffled his hair without him even knowing I was there. Yes, I fully realize that I could have taken him out right then and there, but I wanted to know what he was doing and curiosity has always been one of my vices.

I peeked over his shoulder. "Metaphors?" I asked aloud, surprised. Then I mentally slapped myself for speaking aloud. So much for the element of surprise.

The ghost whirled around, his eyes wide with astonishment. "V… V… Val?" he stuttered, tense. "Where… where did you come from?" Then he paused, tilting his head to the side, his forehead wrinkling. "And why aren't you blasting me?"

"I ask the questions, ghost!" I snapped, angry at myself for giving away my position. "And don't call me that! Why are you reading about metaphors?"

The ghost stared at me, almost like he didn't comprehend the question. I knew he did though – as much as I hate to admit it, this ghost was smart. It was a long moment before he spoke. "Um… learning is the best way to improve and get stronger?"

_Why did that sound like a question?_ "Right. How does learning about metaphors make you stronger?" Against my better judgment, I deactivated my hoverboard and dropped onto the clock tower next to him. The ghost scooted a few feet farther away, but he didn't run.

He wrinkled his forehead again. "Cause…" he paused, thinking. I watched his eyes light up and when he spoke it was with much more confidence. "It helps with my witty banter." The ghost smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes, not that he could see it through my mask. "Where did you get notes on metaphors anyway." It wasn't really a question, but I could see the gears churning behind those green eyes. While he was thinking, I reached over and snatched the paper out of his hand.

"Hey!" he yelped, grabbing for the paper.

"This is a girl's handwriting," I stated, turning the paper over and staring at the neat cursive letters. "Where did you get this, ghost?" I already knew. It was obvious that he had stolen it.

"I'm borrowing it." He stood up and held out his hand. "Give it back, Val."

_Right. Like a ghost borrows things_. "Don't call me Val. And why?"

The ghost sighed. "Why what?"

"Why did take you some girl's English notes?"

"Borrow," the ghost stated flatly. "I borrowed some girl's notes because, obviously, I wasn't in class to take them." A small grin flicked across his face. "That, and I can't read my own handwriting half the time."

Now that I had a closer look at the notes, I actually recognized them. They were the same notes that I was taking in Lancer's English class. Whomever he had stolen this paper from was probably in my class. _I wonder who it is._

The ghost interrupted my thoughts. "Give me back the notes. I promised I'd bring them back."

_Like you keep promises_.

"Please. I don't want to get into a fight over a piece of paper."

I glanced over at him. He seemed sincere, but I still didn't get it. "Why are you memorizing stuff about metaphors?" I held out the paper to him. As he was taking it out of my hand, I felt my eyes grow wide in disbelief and I almost kicked myself. _Why did I give that back to him? Why? He won't return it!_

He stared at the notes then he looked up at me with the same disbelief in his eyes. Apparently he couldn't believe that I had given them back either. After liking his lips, he answered my question. "I told you. I need to get smarter, and the best way to do that is to learn."

A ghost that wants to learn? _What kind of trick is he trying to pull on me?_ "But why metaphors? Nothing will improve that banter of yours. Especially not metaphors."

The ghost hesitated. "It's not like I get a lot of choice in the notes I get, Val."

"Don't call me Val!" I yelped.

"What do you want me to call you?" the ghost snapped back. "It's not like you've ever told me a name. How about 'Greatest Ghost Huntress in the Universe Before Whom Everyone Should Bow Down?"

It was my turn to hesitate. As much as I hated to admit it, the ghost was right; I never had told him what to call me. The ghost turned while I just stood there and stormed back to his spot, dropped down to a sitting position, and stared out over the town, the notes clenched in his hand.

_I am not apologizing to a ghost_, I hissed furiously at myself. _Especially not that ghost_. I stared at him, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. Despite my mind working on overdrive, I couldn't come up with any reasons why a ghost would be studying metaphors.

And, to top it all off, I was starting to feel slightly sorry for the ghost. If he was telling the truth, he was probably the only teenager in Amity Park that actually wanted to go to school… and can't. With me around all the time and all the new ghost weapons the Fentons have been sticking up around school, the ghost couldn't come within a hundred feet of a classroom without getting blown to bits.

_I'm not feeling sorry for a ghost!_ I snarled silently. I was standing there, trying to decide if I wanted to blast him to bits for making me feel this way or leave him alone for the night when the ghost spoke. "I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

_What?_

The ghost sighed. "I'm not very good at memorizing, and this stuff," he waved at the notes, "is really hard. I'm just frustrated."

_Ouch._ The last walls of my solid defense against the ghost crumbled. I wasn't going to let him know that – it was probably just a trick on his part. _Don't apologize, don't apologize, don't apologize…_ "Why metaphors?" I asked, my voice much quieter than usual.

The ghost chuckled a bit. "That's the fourth time you've asked that." He glanced up at me. "I told you. I need to learn." He smoothed out the paper – it had been crumpled during our argument. "I mean, I don't want to learn about metaphors, exactly, but it's not like I have a choice."

"I know what you mean. I have to learn that stuff for Lancer's class. We have a test tomorrow on it."

"Really?" he asked. I could have sworn I saw his eyes roll.

I walked over to him and sat down next to him, hanging my feet over the edge and staring out into the night sky. _I shouldn't do this,_ I moaned, then I leaned over and I snatched the notes out of the ghost's hands.

"Hey!" he snapped, reaching for them.

I held them away from him. "What's a metaphor?" I asked.

"What?" He was stopped, staring at me.

"What's a metaphor?"

"Um…" he hesitated, watching me closely. "A metaphor is a figure of speech…" he stopped, his eyes crossing slightly as he thought, "where two things that don't have much in common are compared." He focused back on me, slowly drawing his hand back. His unspoken question was lingering in his eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "Now, give me an example."

"Life is like a box of chocolates," he drawled, grinning.

"Nope. Try again."

"What?" He was surprised. "That doesn't work?"

I deactivated my mask so I could see him better. He was smiling slightly, confusion still dancing in his eyes. "No, ghost, that was a simile. You used 'like'."

"Oh yeah? You do better."

Simple. "Life is a box of chocolates. See? No 'like'."

The ghost muttered something. It sounded vaguely like "cheater."

"Try again, ghost."

He was silent for a minute, thinking. Then he shook his head. "I can't think of one."

_No wonder he's having so much trouble._ "How about this," I supplied, "The black of your jumpsuit is a metaphor for the evil in your heart." When he winced, I bit my lip. _Why did I say that? That was… cruel…_

"And your red outfit is a metaphor for the anger in yours?" he whispered.

I glanced down at my hunting equipment. "Perhaps…" I wondered. I didn't really want to think about it.

We sat in silence for a few moments, staring out at the sky. "You know," the ghost said after a minute. "Red in ghosts signifies deep-rooted obsessions. Really angry, powerful ghosts that will stop at nothing to get what they want."

"Are you comparing me to ghosts?" I hissed.

"No," he said swiftly, glancing at me. "I'm saying that red typically stands for anger. Fortunately for you, you're a human. Humans can change. That suit of yours is red now, but maybe it won't always be." He chuckled a little, staring down at himself and a sad note creeping into his voice. "But I am a ghost. Mine will always be black."

_Darn it! I'm feeling sorry for him again. Don't say it, don't say it… Shoot! I'm going to say it…_ "You're half white too. And the black doesn't mean evil everywhere in the world." He looked up at me, _something_ in his eyes. "Besides, you'd look stupid in blue."

The ghost laughed softly, shaking his head. "I knew you had a good heart in there somewhere."

I couldn't help it – I smiled too. "Valerie," I said suddenly.

"What?" He blinked at me.

"Valerie. You asked what you should call me. You can call me Valerie."

The ghost chuckle and held out his hand. "I'm Phantom – pleased to meet you, finally," he added under his breath. I shook his hand shivering as the cold of his skin seeped through my glove.

I glanced back down at the notes. _This may work out well after all. I might pass the test tomorrow._ "This is a one night thing," I stated, glancing back up at him and narrowing my eyes. "Tomorrow I vaporize you, just so you realize."

Phantom's eyes seemed to glitter and dance for a minute. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Valerie."

For the first time, I didn't yell at him for using my name. "Now. What is a hyperbole?"


End file.
